


Employee Benefits

by equals_eleven_thirds



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gaslighting, Gen, Identity Issues, Rosie gets a domain, a bit?, made up some names for Jonah's old identities bcos it's fun ok, tell me Jonah's greatest fear isn't being made insignificant and forgotten TELL ME, that domain has just one occupant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equals_eleven_thirds/pseuds/equals_eleven_thirds
Summary: The Magnus Institute offered some normal employee benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month. Rosie makes it work.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 71





	Employee Benefits

Rosie’s computer keyboard makes a satisfying _click-clack_ as she types. Forms to fill out, lists to update… even in the apocalypse, there’s always work for her to do.

Except visitor sign-ins. She hasn’t had any of those to do for a long time. As much as time has any meaning nowadays.

Her phone rings. She smiles as she picks it up.

“Hello, Rosie,” says the voice at the other end. The only voice who ever calls her, now. “Has anyone come by?”

“No, Mr. Bouchard, no one yet. Were you expecting someone?” She pulls up a tab on her computer; it’s always open in the background, just for this. “I’m looking at your calendar, and I don’t see any meetings scheduled.”

“It isn’t on the schedule, I just thought… Well, let me know if anyone does come by.” He hesitates. “And Rosie, you know you can use my real name.”

“Oh, of course. My apologies, um…”

“I’m Jonah Magnus, Rosie.”

“Oh! Yes. Silly of me. _Mr. Magnus_. Have a good day.”

She hangs up before he does, and Knows that he stares at the phone for a moment, listening to the dial tone, before hanging up his end.

It’s _lovely_.

She remembers when she first took this job. A decent salary, for secretary work—not unusually high, or she’d have disregarded it as a scam, but good. A couple of comments from Mr. Bouchard about “unusual visitors” and “colourful characters” in the company itself, but she’s never had many problems with any of that herself. The usual benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month.

_Fridays_ and _months_ aren’t really a thing anymore, but Rosie does still get the occasional meal now on her boss’s… _dime_ isn’t quite the word, is it?

“Rosie?”

Oh, he’s come downstairs to check, all the way down from his tower! She gives her brightest customer service smile, never turning away from her computer. “Yes, Mr. Bouchard?”

“I—I thought I would come check myself. You’re sure no one has come by?”

“No, no one at all. Why do you ask, Mr. Wright?”

“He was supposed to… After everything I’ve done to him, wouldn’t he come to me? Come to try and topple the king?”

“Who’s that, then, Mr. Mendelson?”

“My Archivist! My Archive!” He’s shouting now, coming closer, angry and so, _so_ afraid. “ _Jonathan Sims_ , he’s meant to _be_ here!”

“Is he?” She pitches her voice perfectly, distracted and mollifying as she minimizes a couple of windows. “I’m afraid he’s not on your calendar, Mr. Lockwood. He knows he should call me for any advance appointments, doesn’t he?”

“He doesn’t have to call, he can just walk in! Everything, _everything_ is in his hands, and he should be angry at me, he should be—Rosie! Look at me!”

Now, finally, she turns towards him. Her boss. Elias Bouchard, Jonah Magnus, whichever name he uses, he’s still just a _man_ , harried and hunted around the edges, stand-in eyes darting wildly. He’s not used to not seeing what he wants, and he doesn’t see his Archivist—here or anywhere. He hasn’t seen him since the world ended and his Panopticon rose, that eternal, central chamber in which he sits and watches and learns _nothing_.

“I am looking at you, Mr. Winslow,” she tells him. “I’m always looking at you. I’m your secretary, aren’t I?”

He shrinks under her gaze, under her soothing voice, under her humouring him. “I’m… My name is Jonah Magnus, Rosie. You know that, don’t you? You know who I am?”

“Of _course_ I know who you are. You’re Jonah Magnus, Mr. Bouchard. You told me so yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> look i saw [this post](https://radiosandrecordings.tumblr.com/post/632055152665346048/everything-here-is-either-watcher-or-watched) and i had an Idea, and that idea is torture jonah magnus. it's what rosie DESERVES.


End file.
